Help me Heal
by AnimeLover2013-17
Summary: Arthur was never really properly accepted into society, and Francis could only look on with up until now. With the Brits natural instinct to push people away, what more could he do? But now that Francis had to go deliver some papers Arthur had forgotten at the office, he was met with a sight he never would have expected even in the worst case.
1. Prologue

((Authors Note: 'Ello my friends, say hello to the second story I have begun on this little account. Those of you who are reading my other story as well, I'm sorry I haven't updated for a little while.. I'll be honest, I've hit a bit of writers blocked I've gone ahead and started my other one now. Also a bit depressing, but I'm good at that stuff aren't I? I am going to give a warning, this isn't exactly for the squeamish. Let's go ahead and start it then, just a little prologue to ease us into it.))

How can someone explain pain? Pain was a simple thing when you think about it fleetingly. A cut from that neighbors hostile cat, a burn from the poker in the fireplace you grabbed too far down the hilt. That was the simple way to express pain, and the way most people would choose to use. But pain is more than that. Pain inflicted on your body was quick, and faded quickly. At least, compared to the mental pain that was inflicted on a person from loss, abandonment and betrayal. It wasn't as easy to recover from that kind of pain. That pain lingers, eating away at you until someone helps to take it away. Of course, in his case.. That didn't happen.

The Briton had been in the dark, alone for years now. Even when he was able to leave his broken home, Arthur had never been able to really make friends. Even moving around, he was never able to ditch that air he always had. This.. Air that made it obvious he wasn't looking for any human connection. But it was probably partially because of that people left him alone, whether he liked it or not. And that was always a good question.. Did he want them around or not? Based on his own actions.. Probably not. He tried to be irritably, scare people away. And he had gotten pretty good at it too. He had learned exactly what to do with specific people to keep them away. Dispute his wishes to be helped, he couldn't trust people. That capability had been taken away from him a long time ago.

Arthur sat on the edge of the tub, still contemplating his future actions. A sharp razor was held in his hands, the blade glinting in the light. He had already made his decision, but acting on it was proving to be a difficulty. He never told anyone about his struggles, so he didn't actually know what they would do if they found out. Maybe they actually would care? But if they cared then why didn't they care now? Did they really hate him, or was it just.. Of course they did.. After years of being used as a younger, then disowned.. He wasn't sure if anyone would say honestly that they wanted him around. But.. There was that small chance right? There was a meeting for work tomorrow.. He could try and talk to some of them, see what they had to say about it. Just trying, that would be plenty. If it failed tomorrow, he would give up. If it failed tomorrow.. But he needed something right now..

The Briton pulled his sleeve up, exposing the smooth inside of his arm. Just so it isn't visible tomorrow under his uniform. That's all he tried to remember when the blade moved up, pressing into his forearm. Only a little pressure was needed to draw a few beads of blood, and a little more gently sent the sharp blade through his flesh, calling a more steady stream of blood. The pain brought tears to his eyes at first, before he allowed himself to be submerged into it. After the pain there was relief. It dampened the internal pain, bringing it out to the surface to be released. Dampened, but not entirely gone.  
Arthur stared at the crimson liquid flowing down his arm, dripping onto the white stone on the floor, staining his shirt. He didn't actually care much, he didn't know how much of his clothing had been ruined by blood, his own or others. But it had never actually been himself who brought the blood to the surface. Not without others being involved. Well, they still sort of were, but in a far different way.

The temptation to finish the job was nearly overwhelming, but.. That small chance.. That chance was still there. He had to try it first, make sure that that was the one sure way for him to go. There was his people to think about, he couldn't just leave them when he thought life got to hard. Once he could prove no other person even liked him.. That would be what he would use to push himself over the edge. That would be more than enough to do so..

Arthur pulled the blade away from his arm, looking at the blade for a moment before dropping it on the floor to avoid the temptation to cut at his arm again. Since the decision to wait longer was a sudden choice, Arthur had to grab at a towel to slow the bleeding, not really wanting to pass out in the bathroom again. He pressed the cloth as firmly as he could, already feeling dizzy. The blood slowed down before he started seeing dark spots in his vision. Was that a good thing or not? Arthur couldn't tell anymore..

Arthur abandoned the towel for proper bandages when the blood flow slowed enough so the bandage wouldn't be soaked within minutes. He wrapped the gauze tightly around his forearm, wanting the bleeding to stop fairly quickly. He needed to shower before the meeting tomorrow.. That wouldn't be a very good idea with an open wound now would it? Be presentable, and then just get through the meeting. Prove to himself that he didn't have a reason to stop next time.

((Author's Note: what did I say? This was a little taste as to what's commin', just a warning. War one end, total depression in another. I need a happy story now.. I'll think about that.

Anyway, at the moment this is just a little filler for the break in other story right now, and hopefully I'll actually finish the next chapter and I'll get that one up.

See you guys in the next update!))


	2. Chapter 1

((Authors Note: Its. Up. Thank England's eyebrows, and the pasta monster.))

"Hey, Arthur! I'm glad you're here man, no one really could tell if you would be here this meeting. Seriously, lately it's been like you really haven't wanted to talk to us. Talk to me dude, how have you been doing locked up in your house like you always are?"

Arthur hardly gave Alfred a look when he spoke, not reacting like he normally would with a smack upside the head. "Fine. I've been fine. Stop talking to me please, I really have no interest in arguing with you."

Silence. "What?" Alfred's cocky smirk was gone, to be replaced with a surprised, and rather confused look. He quickened his pace to keep up with the quiet Briton. "What's going on man? You aren't acting normal.." Of course, he knew that only a few minutes after meeting Arthur again. "Why aren't you yelling at me? You always-"

"That is none of your business." Arthur interrupted, looking down at the floor. His business suit was covering his arms completely, hiding any trace of the white bandages wrapped around his arm, though they were most likely stained with blood again. His shower that morning had irritated the wound, making it bleed again. He hadn't had time to treat it properly before he left, and had just been able to bind it tightly with the hope no one would notice that his complexion slightly pale. "Why don't you go bother someone else for a while? Just leave me alone."

A flash of genuine hurt crossed his face before Alfred looked mad. "No way, what's wrong with you?" He reached out to grab Arthur's shoulder. "You don't.. You've never pushed me away so fast like this."

As soon as Alfred's hand touched him, Arthur jerked away from him, his blank expression changing to one of sudden blazing anger. "I told you to leave me alone you ignorant idiot! Go talk to Gilbert or Matthew, I know that your presence would be greatly appreciated there, wouldn't it?" He turned to walk away, his stance just yelling pissed off at anyone near him. People almost looked at him like they would Ivan when he was emitting his dark aura, and moved quickly to get out of his way.

Francis stared after him from the side of the hall, utterly confused from the Brits actions. Normally he would take the America's verbal abuse, and send some back in response. It wasn't like him to just walk away like that. And so angrily too, something was definitely wrong with Arthur.. But what exactly happened to provoke that kind of behavior?

God damn it.. Wasn't his goal to try and find someone who cared here? Wonderful, the first person he talks to and he's the one to walk away first. He wouldn't want any hope from Alfred anyway. The two of them didn't even get along half of the time for the love of god.. There wasn't.. He wasn't going to get anything from that man anyway..  
Arthur entered the actual meeting room, not expecting anyone else to be in there. He kept his eyes on the floor as he walked to his chair as the host country. Before he could sit down, there was a cough in the room, practically causing Arthur to jump up nearly two feet into the air. He turned his head quickly to look, gaze swiveling around to settle on a Russian also sitting in the room.

Arthur took a moment to compose himself again, staring at Ivan with slightly narrowed eyes. "Yes? Did you need something?"

Ivan gazed back at him, a small smile on his face. "Net, I did not. But I do not think that you noticed that I was here. I wanted to tell you before you saw me and truly was frightened."

"I would not have been frightened." Arthur scowled. "I don't scare that easily, and I would have noticed without your intervention."

"Da, you probably would have." The Russian didn't loose his childish look as he smiled softly at the Briton in front of him. "But then we would not be having this conversation would we? Not in this time at the very least."

Arthur's annoyance faded back into that blank look he had sported for the past few months. "It doesn't matter." He sighed, sitting in his chair. "The others will be coming soon, there isn't all that much time before the meeting starts."

Indeed, Gilbert and Alfred came in laughing obnoxiously soon after that, sitting around the large table. Other people who worked alongside them slowly started to trickle into the room, taking random seats around the large table. There were never assigned seats in those meetings, except for the head of the table. It was just an unspoken rule by letting Ludwig sit there, since he was the only one able to keep the meeting moving.

Ludwig took charge as all as the last person sat down, ordering the other people to shut up and start the meeting. Letting Ludwig take control of the others, Arthur stayed out of most of the conversations, really having issues with staying focused. He didn't really have too much to say anyway, his attention span was getting worse than Alfred's... How absurd.. How absolutely unexpected as well. But he had other things on his mind, so at least he had an excuse. He was currently trying to think of someone who just maybe wouldn't turn him away.

Of course, he wasn't having luck with that. Just like last night, which was why he was here in the first place. The only way to do that was really to talk to people, but as he had proven before.. Arthur wasn't very good at doing that. He stared down at the papers that had been passed around the table, slowly loosing hope just by thinking about it.

Arthur didn't even register the quiet question thrown at him from the person across the table. He instead just stared down with a blank expression, rubbing the edge of the paper between his fingers. Not paying attention to the way the paper was angled at his fingers, so the next thing that pierced his consciousness was a sharp pain as the edge of the paper cut his finger open.

He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, dropping the paper quickly and pulling his hand back. His eyes widened slightly, Arthur inspected the tiny wound, a drop of blood trickling down his finger and leaving a dark red trail.

"Arthur? Are you alright over there?" He yanked his mind back into the room, the Brit looking to Ludwig, staring with those piercing ice eyes. He was obviously annoyed he had been interrupted.

Not wanting to make a scene, Arthur mumbled that he was just fine, raising the injured finger, sucking on it to stop the slight blood flow. It was metallic, and a little salty against his tongue. And he.. God he liked it. Was that bad? Deciding he didn't want to develop a taste for it anyway, Arthur pulled his finger away from his mouth before he prodded the open wound with his tongue to get more.

Francis, on the other side of the table and down some, couldn't help but watch Arthur. His movements had seemed so.. Subconsciously made lately. He was obviously not completely there, but he had been doing adequate work despite his social skills (or lack of) so the boss wasn't going to fire him. That was, in fact, the first time the Brit had been called on for anything like that in a good while.

But it was the first time he had heard him talk for a while as well. Other than the incident with Alfred in the hall, Arthur was getting more quiet than he had been. Had been, meaning he hardly spoke unless it was to snap back at some person, or when he was talking to the boss about being late. Whenever that happened the Brit always looked weary. Or more so than usual anyway.

Francis was hardly paying attention to the meeting, trying to figure out this man across the table. But he had been trying to do that for close to three years now, when Arthur first came to work here at the business. All he had really figured of was that the Brit lived alone, though he wasn't sure where, and that he didn't like France. Why? God only knew.. But since Francis was from France, and since that was fairly obvious from his accent, his presence wasn't really welcomed by Arthur.

But that was how they had survived each other, since Francis had never been a great fan of the British either. But they both had to work with each other, so they managed not to get into verbal fist-fights every day. (Which was better than what that obnoxious American managed to do with their relationship..)

Like he had done before, Arthur spaced out from the rest of the meeting, unless his name was said and he jerked back into reality. He had decided he wasn't even going to try to anyone after the little exchange with Alfred. He was sure that no one would be interested in talking after his outburst. Even Ivan had been ignoring him since the meeting started, and if he was doing so... Let's just say there was little chance for anyone else.

Not that he was really interested himself in talking to most of the people there. Mostly everyone was rude, loud, or just dislikable. Other than a very select few, (just about two people actually) Arthur was unlikely to ever connect with.

But maybe that was a good thing. He gave himself the chance to see if he really didn't want to try anymore. Who knew? Maybe a few years ago Arthur would have even tried to become friends with Ludwig. He was stupidly controlling and strict, but he probably could have managed with that. But now he was worn out. And this was an easy way to escape the issues that were riding on his shoulders.. Arthur couldn't deal with that anymore. Besides, even if he managed to keep going, in just another few weeks the job would be done for him.

Arthur was deep in thought, and didn't notice that the meeting had ended a little while ago, and almost everyone was gone. Except for a few people. And one of those people just had to be Ludwig..

The German approached Arthur's seat, and leaned against the table. He looked disapprovingly at Arthur as the Brit pulled himself out of his little haze, to look up at him. "Yes?" He spoke without much emotion. He was slightly annoyed that he was being delayed from going home, but Arthur thought he did a nice job at hiding that.

"Is something on your mind?" For a moment, Arthur was under the illusion that Ludwig was really caring. And then he kept talking. "Since obviously something is more important than the meeting here, considering that you weren't paying attention again. Again, Arthur. There are little excuses for missing a meeting, but when you made the effort to show up, then I would like you to not go off into your own world, and actually process what is happening around you for once."

Arthur looked somewhat frustrated, but that was being drowned out by weariness. "I was paying attention.." He mumbled, already searching for an escape rout.

"Scheiße you were." Ludwig growled. "This is, what? The fourth time? Fifth? If you actually were paying attention, where are notes? Or did you not do those as well?"

No. He didn't. He was too busy thinking about later that day. Arthur's eyes flickered down, away from the steely ice orbs of the German. He was about to shake his head when he saw the once empty sheet of paper on top of his other papers was now filled with curly script. He looked up at the other people in the room with surprise, knowing this was someone else's notes, and was trying to think of who would bail him out like that.

Francis had chosen to chat aimlessly with Antonio before leaving the meeting room to go home. Every time they had a big meeting like this, then the rest of the day was cut so the employees wouldn't 'overwork' or something 'horrific like that'. But even if they chose to stay no one got paid for overtime, so mostly everyone went home unless there was some big deadline coming up.

But he chose to stay that day mainly because of a certain Brit in the room. He was hoping that he would be able to work out exactly what was up with that man if he stayed a little longer. A quest that was quickly being questioned. Besides, Ludwig was zeroing in on him.. Wait, why was he being singled out like that? Maybe something to do with the paper cut incident. Though, normally that kind of thing was just passed up with Arthur, since it was fairly obvious to the rest of them he wasn't exactly in the best of moods most of the time.

But Ludwig wasn't just going to pass this one up.. He was getting pretty hard with Arthur, getting mad about not paying attention. Francis had to give he Brit credit for not exploding all over the German, like he normally would have done if this had been anyone else.. Or any time before now, come to think of it.

Francis looked on out of the corner of his eye as he talked to Antonio, just like anyone else in their right mind would be doing. Ludwig chewing anyone out was the source of entertainment for the office. Slightly sadistic, yes. But it was either that or sneaking onto the internet when the boss's back was turned. But with the way that this conversation was going, Francis wouldn't be surprised if Arthur lost his job if he screwed up again. And unfortunately, that screw-up was approaching rather quickly.

Suddenly feeling bad for the Brit, Francis felt the need to help him out. Where this came from, he couldn't say, but he felt that Arthur had gotten enough crap for a while. With the way that he had exploded over Alfred in the hall for whatever reason, he might not take being unemployed very well.

With his sudden change of heart, Francis took Ludwig's distraction as an advantage, leaning slightly infer the table to switch Arthur's blank paper with his own, script-filled one. He leaned back to Antonio, who raised an eyebrow.

"Quite a risk mi amigo.." The Spaniard was smart enough to lower his voice. "¿Por qué?"

Francis only gave a light shrug. "The poor Brit needs a break." He couldn't give Antonio much more of an answer. "Just because he hates me, that does not mean that I think the same about him."

Antonio didn't think much of it. His friend often made these last minute decisions, it wasn't something he could worry about every time that happened. And the German tyrant hadn't seemed to noticed either, so it didn't matter.

The two friends continued to chat, with the blond sneaking little glances at the one still giving a lecture over there. Eventually Arthur looked away, looking embarrassed over his frustration. Francis felt a little surge of glee when the Briton's eyes widened as he saw the new page of notes in front of him. When he looked up, Francis caught his eye for a moment before looking away again, looking back to his friend.

The frog? He wouldn't.. Since when would he care to risk his own neck? Arthur back up at Ludwig, sliding the new paper a little ways closer to the German. "Yes.. I did." Arthur's voice was cold, now able to hide behind this paper of notes. "Inspect it if you wish, but I would like to be returning home right now."

Ludwig's eyes narrowed slightly at his tone, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it. He didn't bother to look at the paper that was pushed closer to him. "Ja, go home then. Don't be late again tomorrow, there are only so many times you can ignore the time." The German warned before leaving him alone, turning away.

Ignoring the time had always been Arthur's specialty, whether he wanted to or not. But it really shouldn't matter again. The Brit stood quickly, grabbing whatever papers where in front of him and leaving as quickly as he could. He was so tired of getting singled out like that. Even if he wasn't the only one not paying attention. He and Ludwig never had gotten along, but really, it was annoying to be one of the only people he would look at to chastise.

He left the building, walking quickly to the bus stop. Done. The day was done. He was done.

((Author's Note: Hmm, This cut off a little sooner than I was planning, but I think that I needed to get this up. So, I made it a little dramatic and so here it is. I'm saving the shit-going-down for the next chapter (Which, yes, I'm writing right now).

So, I know that I'm changing POV's at fairly random times, but I'm still working with two people that have nothing to do with each other at the moment, So I'm still getting to a point that I can focus on one or the other. Soon I'm going to mainly be on Francis's POV however, so just bear with me until I can get to that point.

Anyway, I'm going to put this up and start working again, so hopefully I can get another one up within the next week. -_-u

Thank you for reading!))


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